


what are you after? (some kind of disaster)

by adverbialstarlight



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Has No Chill, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Bad Poetry, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, POV Ronan Lynch, Pining, Poetry, Ronan Lynch Swears, Slam Poetry, Writer Adam Parrish, a fuck ton, briefly, just more modern??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22415974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbialstarlight/pseuds/adverbialstarlight
Summary: Ronan comes to all of Adam's Thursday night poetry slams at the 300 Fox. It doesn't look like he's going to make it for this one and tells Adam he can't come, but things unexpectedly work out and he arrives just in time to see Adam read a new poem. One Ronan hasn't seen before. One that he's got a sneaking suspicion might be about him.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 12
Kudos: 143





	what are you after? (some kind of disaster)

**Author's Note:**

> wooo i finally finished this little fic! i actually started it way way back in november but it somehow got pushed down my priority pile until tonight i clawed it back up. unbetaed, please excuse any mistakes and i hope you enjoy!
> 
> title from [Some Kind of Disaster](https://youtu.be/OTwdgzeey8w) by All Time Low aka the brilliant new song from my all time favorite band

The easiest way to tell if someone had grown up in a place without snow was to study how they reacted when it began to snow in the winter. To see if they scowled and hoped the slush wouldn’t turn into puddles or ice the next day or if they stopped in the middle of the street to grin up at the sky.

When he’d first come to New York, Ronan hadn’t been quite as excited as other southerners, but there was still something almost magical about the snow and how it fell softly like a feather. Now, four years later, he was completely fucking over it, finally understanding what an inconvenience it really was.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he ran down the steps to the subway, weaving through clusters of people also gathered in the station. Despite his unusual rush, Ronan still tried his best to avoid knocking into anyone as he made his way to the familiar platform. There was a to go cup of tea with the lid cracked cupped in his rough hands, and if it ended up splashing on his (for once, not black or gray) shirt, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Today, Ronan had somewhere to be after work. Somewhere that showing up wearing his drink would not go very well.

Technically, it was not a date— it never was, as much as Ronan secretly wished it to be. Technically, he was just going to go sit in the back of a hipstery writer’s bar and hang out back there while Adam did his thing. He would get a beer and watch without really listening to any of the fake-deep poetry until it was Adam’s turn, he’d watch his friend perform, and then they’d sit in the back to talk shit for a few more hours before heading back to their respective apartments.

At some point in the past three years they’d known each other, this had become their Thursday night routine. A set hang out that Ronan looked forward to constantly.

It’d started as something Gansey dragged Ronan to, back when he and Adam were just vague acquaintances who clashed every time they were near each other. Over time though, as Gansey spent more time with Blue— his now girlfriend and an employee at the writer’s bar— and Ronan spent more time with Adam, it became something for just the two of them. As much as Ronan willed himself not to think too hard about it, he could admit it was special. It was their _thing_.

And Ronan would not miss it for anything.

No matter the weather, no matter the workload still sitting on Ronan’s desk three subway stops away at the end of the workday, no matter how exhausted and pissed Ronan felt, he always showed up for Adam’s readings. Adam always scoffed and rolled his eyes when he saw Ronan, telling him he _really didn’t have to come_ , a silent thank you which Ronan replied with a _that’s bullshit_ , his silent you’re welcome. There was not one reading that Ronan had ever missed, and he never planned to start.

Today, however, the universe was really fucking pushing it. Despite the apologetic look Noah had shot him, Ronan ended up with extra work that had to be done right then and there as he was getting packed up to leave. Despite the guilt and dread settling into his stomach, Ronan punched in a text to Adam, a warning that he was probably not going to make it to the reading. The first of hopefully no more to come.

He hadn’t looked at his phone for the rest of the night, instead Ronan threw himself entirely into the assignment. There was a very, very slim chance that he could make it out in just two more hours and possibly get to the bar in time for Adam’s poem. Noah, upon hearing this plan, had told Ronan it was impossible. The assignment required at least three more hours, a time at which the poetry open mic would be over by. But Ronan Lynch was nothing if not a bender of the impossible.

In the end, he finished after an hour and fifty two minutes, much to his equally exhausted coworkers’ astonishment. Without even bothering with a goodbye, Ronan had grabbed his coat, his hat, and his lukewarm cup of tea set down by Noah a few minutes before, and raced out of the office building and down to the subway station.

Now, he tapped his foot restlessly against the concrete while waiting for passengers exiting this subway car to get out of the way. Some shot right out and off for the stairs, but others mulled around and kept the doors blocked, much to Ronan’s dismay.

He didn’t have time for this shit. Not when there was still the small chance he could get to the bar before Adam’s piece. He usually went towards the end, but Ronan didn’t know where Blue put him in tonight’s lineup. Given Ronan’s luck, Adam could be on stage right fucking now.

Ronan wanted to scream, wanted to push past the woman and her children arguing over churros and get to the 300 Fox already. But he was not one to make big, hot-tempered scenes anymore. He’d left that behind and grown into a level headed adult, so he waited for them to move before rushing into the subway car.

His fingers tapped against the bright yellow pole as the train lurched forward. _Soon_ , he thought. _I’m going to get to you soon_. He only hoped it would be on time.

The next two stops went by agonizingly slow, with more people taking their time to get on and off, and Ronan was restless. Finally though, the subway pulled up to his stop. As the doors slid open, Ronan was out of the car and rushing towards the exit as fast as one can while trying to remain composed and walking.

The 300 Fox was two blocks down from the subway stop. Ronan didn’t mind this usually, it let him spend a bit more time with Adam before they were forced to part ways in the station, but it felt like walking a fucking marathon tonight.

By the time Ronan reached the ornately carved doors, his lungs were burning in the cold, his tea cold, and breath quick. He should go to the gym more, Ronan thought to himself distractedly as he pushed inside. It seemed that being away from the Barns had made his cardio weaken more than he’d anticipated.

Ronan went up to the bar to get his usual drink then began to inch towards a small table in the very back corner. As he sat down, Blue was stepping onto the small stage again. “Thank you, Tad, for that… _very_ interesting piece about your girlfriend. It was not weird and objectifying the entire time at all,” she said, rolling her eyes. Ronan allowed himself to huff in amusement, but his eyes began to scan the room for Adam.

Where was he? Had he gone up yet? Ronan had heard him practice this poem already, but there was something different about watching Adam perform it live to an audience instead of sleepily mumbling it in a booth at Nino’s with their friends. He hoped there was still time.

_Please, please, please. Let me see him_.

“And now,” Blue continued, “I am excited to introduce a regular reader at our poetry nights, my good friend Adam Parrish! Tonight he’s performing his poem _The Dirt_. Please welcome Adam!”

As the crowd began to cheer, Ronan let out a disbelieving breath. He made it. He actually fucking made it on time to see Adam. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout every swear he knew in every language he could up to God and the rest of the universe. He wanted to stand up and catch Adam’s eye, to let him see him and know he was there, that this promise had not been broken.

Adam stepped on stage next to Blue, a small smile on his lips. Even from the back, Ronan was surprised to see that he looked almost _nervous_ beneath his usual sharp confidence as he scanned the first few rows. It was a shame that he looked no further, didn’t see Ronan sitting in the back staring at him with intensity and awe. Ronan felt so vulnerable in his relief, so euphoric. Perhaps it was a blessing Adam didn’t see him instead. They’d be able to say hello after he was finished.

“Hello,” Adam said into the microphone. “Thanks so much, Blue. Before I begin though, I’ve got something to say first. Initially, I was gonna read _The Dirt_ for y’all, like Blue said, but something— something came up so I’m actually going to read a different poem if that’s okay.”

He glanced over to Blue, who looked surprised for a moment but then grinned and nodded. Ronan’s eyes narrowed, looking between the two. Blue knew something. And that something Adam mentioned, it had to be about Ronan, right?

Ronan sighed. He was reading too much into this. Luckily, a waiter came up to him then, dropping a bottle of his regular beer and a glass of ice onto his table. Ronan nodded his thanks and took a sip from the bottle.

“Anyway,” Adam continued. The twang of his accent snuck out as he said the word, smooth and lovely like the Virginian hills. “This is called _Falls,_ I wrote it a bit ago. I hope you enjoy it.” He took a breath and began to recite from memory.

_“There is something I cannot explain,  
Something strange and burning bright.  
I cannot look for too long,  
I think it might swallow me whole._

_Your love is like a familiar waterfall,  
One I know but dare not swim.  
I’ve been washed away and lost control,  
But strangely I don’t really mind._

_There is something overtaking me,  
Something changing my soul and mind.  
We cannot pretend for very long,  
Otherwise I just might break._

_My love is a cavern hidden in the falls,  
One that you somehow breached.  
You never noticed, I’m not sure why,  
Because I’ve given you all the gold._

_Perhaps one day I’ll take a chance,  
I’ll let myself float with eyes wide open.  
But I’m not sure if I’ll take the risk,  
At least not today.”_

Adam stepped back and bowed as the audience began to clap, looking almost embarrassed. “Thank you,” he added, then walked off stage.

Blue came on and began speaking again, but Ronan was frozen in his seat, only his eyes moving as they tracked Adam weaving through the crowd. The beer was still inches from his lips, but Ronan had forgotten he was holding it.

A thousand thoughts spun through his head at every second, flashing pictures on a movie reel. Ronan was no literary expert, but _a familiar waterfall_ had to be a reference to the one at the Barns, the one Adam loved so much every time he visited Ronan’s childhood home during holidays. And the poem overall, it had to be about _Ronan_ , what else could it possibly be about? But if it was, then that meant— Adam had to be writing about something else, someone else, but—

“Ronan.”

Adam had stopped in front of Ronan’s table, looking as startled as Ronan felt. His shoulders were tense and lips slightly parted, vibrant blue eyes wide as he stared at Ronan. “I— You told me you couldn’t make it.”

It took a moment for Ronan to remember how to speak. A moment where he felt like a stunned, empty eyed fish laying on a vendor table at an outdoor market whose thoughts had been cut off the moment he’d been captured by Adam. He cleared his throat, face going warm as he nodded. “I couldn’t. But I kind of rushed through all the shit I had to do so I could come see you. I didn’t actually think it’d work. I got here like right before you came on stage.”

Adam stared at him for a long second, but then he began to shake his head and laugh. It was not one of his usual laughs, mirthfully teasing or incredulous offense or genuinely full of happiness. It was one of disbelief and something bordering hysteria. He looked back up at Ronan through dark brown lashes with a slight crease between his brows and the corner of his lip between his teeth.

“Oh,” he said. “I guess that means you heard that poem then.”

Ronan nodded, his heart rate suddenly spiking even more. If it became any more panicked, he was sure it’d simply jump out of his ribcage and right into Adam’s elegant hands. “It was good,” he said. “Look, I have no idea if I’m completely reading this wrong but I—"

“Can we just forget any of that happened?” Adam blurted at the same time.

They looked at each other with matching surprise, then Adam continued first, “I never meant for you to hear that, so I’m sorry that you did. It’s just you said you wouldn’t be coming so Blue talked me into reading it and—” He stopped himself, sighing. “I know I’ve probably interpreted this all wrong and you’re all uncomfortable with me now because what kind of fucking loser writes something like that about a _friend_ , but I really don’t want to lose you over this so just… forget it even happened.”

Having finished, Adam let out a long breath and looked down at his shoes, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “Okay, so what were you going to say?”

“I,” Ronan began, but then he closed his mouth. Shook his head. There was no point when Adam had made it very clear he’d rather _not_ be attracted to Ronan. At least Ronan knew he had been at all, even if it was unideal. “Never mind. Sure. I’ll just— yeah. Later, Parrish.”

In two swallows, he finished his beer and began moving past Adam, ready to sit on the subway and muse over and regret every single one of his life decisions including ever agreeing to meet the storm that was Adam Parrish. He wasn’t much for public drama, but even Ronan Lynch was not immune to the strange liminal space that was the New York subway. Perhaps it was something about the florescent lights.

Adam watched him go for exactly two seconds before reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of Ronan’s leather jacket without any thought. His fingers were twisted into the worn fabric tightly, knuckles white despite the fairly loose grip he had. Adam’s eyes searched Ronan’s, the crease between his brows returning when Ronan said nothing.

“I did something, didn’t I?” he muttered, running a hand through his blond hair. “Fuck, this was such a bad idea. I’m so sorry, Lynch. Please don’t just disappear on me.”

Ronan couldn’t help the small, sharp grin from twitching on his lips. “But if I did, you’d write another poem about me. What if I want you to?”

Adam snorted and Ronan could almost forget the situation they were currently in. Easily he replied, “You say that as if I haven’t written several about you already.” The moment the words were out, Adam recoiled in horror. His face flushed and his eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. “Fuck. Uh, I didn’t— just— fuck.”

Adam looked absolutely mortified, and perhaps he was, but Ronan felt like he was flying. His head felt dizzy, drunk off the beautiful man in front of him alone without a single drop of the Genesis he’d had. There was no stopping the disgustingly fond grin from taking over his face as he said, “There’s more? Do I get to hear them?”

“Fuck you, you’re a real dick,” Adam said, taking back his hand to cross his arms over his chest.

Ronan shrugged in acknowledgment. “So is that a yes?”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“Parrish, have I ever made fun of you?” Ronan asked. Adam gave him a look and Ronan put his hands up in surrender. In a small moment of boldness, he stepped forward an inch, meeting Adam’s intense gaze. “I’m not. Making fun of you, I mean. Hypothetically, if these other poems _did_ exist, I would definitely want to read them all.”

Still unconvinced, Adam quipped, “To stroke your ego?”

“Nah. I’m more interested in seeing if this guy I really like is into me too,” Ronan said with false casualness. “Also, the poet is an insanely talented writer and his poems are remarkable.”

Adam was silent for a moment. Then, “Oh.”

Ronan huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. But I don’t know if that’s going to happen. Bye, Parrish.”

He stepped around Adam and headed for the door again, still feeling slightly nauseous. It was strange how infatuation could feel so much like fear, he pondered.

Ronan could feel Adam’s eyes on his back as he started outside, but what he hadn’t realized was that the man had trailed after. That’s why, when his sleeve was grabbed again, then his wrist, Ronan felt a momentary jolt of terror mixed with anger.

He turned to whoever grabbed him, eyes murderous, but found Adam there, looking fidgety as he did when he first got onto the stage tonight. Ronan relaxed immediately but then stiffened again. He tilted his head in silent question. _What the fuck are you doing, Parrish?_

“Ronan,” Adam said quietly, almost inaudible over the sound of cars racing down the street beside them. “Was that true? Is it true?”

Ronan took in a shaky breath, turning his hand to slide Adam’s hand loosely into his own. “I don’t lie, Adam.”

The next few seconds were a blur. It felt too slow and too fast at once, witnessed through a movie screen rather than his own body.

Adam’s eyes shifted down to Ronan’s lips, he did the same. Then they both looked up again and someone leaned forward.

And then everything came back up to speed again. They closed the gap between them half way, lips carefully brushing each other. Sparks burned in Ronan’s chest as he began to pull back and Adam’s mouth captured his again, this time more confidence and vigor. Ronan’s free hand found its way to the nape of Adam’s neck, curling into the short strands of his hair as he breathed him in.

Adam’s head tilted and he deepened the kiss, somehow steering the two of them against the brick wall of the 300 Fox as he gently bit down on Ronan’s bottom lip. Ronan did his best to swallow every gasp and whimper threatening to escape his throat as Adam lightly pinned him against the wall, the hand not tightly gripping Ronan’s own dancing lightly over his arms, his shoulders, his chest.

It was everything Ronan could have hoped for and more, a bursting dam that was built for a creek instead of a rapid.

He poured everything he didn’t quite know how to say into the kisses, everything he was too much a coward to even put into thought. His mind was foggy and insides an absolute ruin. It was strange to think how he could have ever been content with their relationship before kissing Adam at least once.

Eventually, a minute or an hour later, they pulled away. Ronan felt like he was drowning, his breaths were shallow and brain spinning. His forehead rested against Adam’s as they stared at each other in wonder once again.

After a moment, Ronan smiled. “So does this mean you like me, then?”

“You are an idiot,” Adam said fondly, snorting. He pressed another chaste kiss to Ronan’s lips. “But yeah, it does. Does this mean _you_ like me, then?”

“More than you fucking know, Parrish.”

Adam tilted his head slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to find out then.”

“And then I’ll get to read those poems,” Ronan added cheekily.

“Ronan I swear to fucking God.”

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: adam's poem i literally just wrote on a flow while doing this fic and i haven't written poetry in a long time so it's kind of bad? i hope this was a fun read anyway though, i had a lot of fun writing it. i really need to post more of my trc stuff lol. thank you so much for reading, leave a comment or kudos to make me cry, and have a lovely new year (as it is lunar new year while im posting and i am asian)!
> 
> if you want, catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/adverbialnouns) or [tumblr](http://adverbialstarlight.tumblr.com)


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